right choice. He knew because history demanded fulfillment; a circle waited to be closed.
“We’re not going anywhere. I came here for you.”
“You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”
“I know exactly what you are. You’re the rot that remains when something living decays. You’re the after- birth of the big bang; a side effect of the creation of the universe. You come from some void where you’ve been since before time. And you’ve watched us. You’ve watched the living. You’ve watched species rise from bits of bio mass into mighty civilizations and that scares you. Ever-changing, getting better, improving with each generation.”
“You wither and die. I am eternal.”
“You are stagnant! You never change. Since the moment you existed you have been all that you will ever be. And you look out from your void and see life flourishing and growing and experiencing the universe. You are filled with nothing but envy and hate. That’s why your ‘children’ are cruel and vicious; that’s their purpose, to punish life. That’s why you tortured me for the sake of torture. And that is all you have to offer: violence and misery.”
The thing that looked like Danny Washburn answered, “I am filled with envy and hate? Look at your ‘evolving’ life-look at your species. You divide into sub-groups of race and culture, always searching for reasons to call your own superior; better.”
“And that’s how you’ve done it, right? You tapped into the dark nature of each of the races and used it to your advantage. You are a master manipulator and with your bag of parlor tricks you’ve convinced them that your sad corner of existence is some kind of immortal paradise; that you are a king-maker that can bring all manner of wonders if they are worthy, when the truth is that you are no more than a cast out.”
The image of Dallas, Texas appeared in the energy current between the spheres. Another batch of creatures disappeared from the past and re-appeared in the present.
Danny Washburn’s voice warned, “Soon your species will be wiped from time and space. Or belong to me.”
“That’s the only way for you. You can’t reproduce or evolve, so you conquer and subvert. You turn the living into the soulless dead. The only way you can expand your reach is by convincing the others to submit to you. Like I said, a master manipulator. But your puppets made a mistake last year, didn’t they?”
“You are wasting your time. Go now, or I will kill you.”
Jorgie scrunched close to his father who slung an arm around his boy’s shoulder. Trevor ignored the threat and continued, “A little of that good old human greed and ambition remained in those you mutated, enough so that your Missionary Man wanted to earn your favor. Taking me-that was for your amusement. You’ve been obsessed with hurting me since this began. But you did not count on my son. When the force of life inside this child’s body touched the great machines of Voggoth, what happened?”
“Go now!”
“He took control. He manipulated your tools. Life proved superior!”
Jorgie chimed in, “It was empty! YOU are empty!”
The thing that resembled Danny Washburn nearly glowed red with anger. Its eyes bulged to inhuman size. Its arms flailed in the air. And in a voice that cried out from the void it screamed, “I am older than the first atom of the universe! I am eternal! I-am- a GOD!”
The body of Danny Washburn erupted and the thing hiding inside grew like an airbag exploding from a dashboard. It filled the room in a second, stretching from one side to the other of the massive hall; towering high between the two glowing orbs of enslaved Nyx.
A giant mass; a mountain of creature not quite solid, not quite liquid. A brown and black building-sized alien organism from the darkest hole of all existence. Its surface rippled and the faces of a trillion swallowed souls pushed against the flesh from the inside out, wailing a chorus composed by the devil himself.
The energy from the orbs filled the chamber in a brilliant glow. The giant creature hovered above father and son.
Voggoth.
22. A Line in the Sand
The Eagle air ship flew low and fast along the banks of the Mississippi River. To the east, clear blue skies and a low-hanging morning sun. To the west, a line of dark clouds rolling and rumbling like an incensed tide.
General Brewer and General Shepherd shared a row of seats while a small contingent of soldiers and technicians filled the remainder of the passenger compartment.
Jon stabbed his finger into the map on his lap and asked, “How did this happen?”
Jerry Shepherd could not be sure if Jon really wanted an answer. Nonetheless, he provided one.
“Lack of aerial recon. So many of those damned Spooks flying around we can’t get a horsefly close enough to spy what they’re doing. We’re damned lucky Cassy’s scouts saw it when they did.”
“Yeah, well, we’re going to need a lot more luck before this is over,” Jon grumbled without pulling his eyes from the map.
“I’ll see what I can whip up, General.”
Jon sighed, ran a hand over his face, and then turned to Shep to see the older gent with a half-cocked grin. He could not refuse to return it.
“We never get a break, do we?”
Shep told him, “I reckon it’d be too easy if we did. So we just got to roll with the punches,” and he patted Jon on the shoulder. “We’ll be there in a minute.”
‘There’ meant Quincy, Illinois, about 100 miles north of St. Louis on the eastern bank of the Mississippi. If humanity survived the day, Quincy would most certainly join the ranks of Waterloo, Gettysburg, Stalingrad, and Five Armies as history’s most important battlegrounds.
Shepherd asked, “So you figure ol’ Voggoth channeled Erwin Rommel or something? Getting fancy isn’t usually his style.”
“Yeah, well, he pulled a quick one at the Rockies so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. He tried to stretch us thin there. That’s what he’s trying to do now.”
“You’re not worried it’s a feint?”
Jon considered the possibility. But human eyes-from Cassy Simms’ Stonewall Brigade-spotted two Leviathans and a host of The Order’s core units crossing Route 63 north of Long Branch State Park just before dawn. Correspondingly, the last transmission from a Predator UAV identified the third Leviathan and a mass of Voggoth’s irregulars fording the Missouri river and moving east through the “Spirit of St. Louis” airport; about 20 miles from the Mississippi on the outskirts of the airport’s namesake.
“No, no,” Jon shook his head. “It’s a two-pronged attack. St. Louis and Quincy. I hoped he would come after our army in St. Louis and we could make this into a street fight. But wow, I didn’t figure him splitting up like this. Under most circumstances I’d see this as a blessing; nothing like a superior force dividing to improve our odds. But we don’t have enough troops to cover both areas. And up here-Quincy-it’s wide open. Perfect for the Leviathans.”
The transport ship descended.
Shep completed the thought, “So he hits us in both spots at about the same time.”
“You want my guess? If I’m Voggoth I beat up St. Louis to keep us pinned while I ram across the Mississippi up here then haul ass to the southeast to circle behind St. Louis. Hell, if he manages that he could finish us off by tomorrow afternoon.”
“And we can’t retreat.”
Shepherd did not ask so much as observe, but Jon replied nonetheless, “The next real natural barrier would be the Appalachians, maybe. But that’s no good. The civvies would be all crammed along the east coast and he could cut us to pieces. No, this is the best ground for a stand. Besides, we pull out now and start running he’ll just pick us off from behind. We stand here.”
“What about the rest of them?”
“The Geryons are camped a few miles north. Not far away at all. Same with the Centurians to the south and
